


Homecoming

by TrueColours



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Denial, F/M, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Pining, Pre-Canon, Pre-Relationship, moving back home, romantic undertones but nobody gets together, something is lurking in the woods, surprise animals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-01-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:47:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22105819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrueColours/pseuds/TrueColours
Summary: After a few years spent studying and working out of state, Juno Divine returns to take up a new post in the Monongahela Forestry Service. Duck Newton is there to greet her, and they find themselves falling into their old patterns - the good and the bad - faster than she expected. And the call of the woods feels familiar as well...
Relationships: Juno Divine & Duck Newton, Juno Divine/Duck Newton
Comments: 4
Kudos: 9





	Homecoming

**Author's Note:**

> This piece was co-written with my sister. She asked me for a Juduck fic for Christmas, but I struggled with the ship so much that she had to step in and help.

The bus heaves itself away with a lurch and a rumble, leaving Juno Divine standing in the road, two suitcases beside her and her rucksack on her back.

She’d sent her dad ahead with her car, stuffed to bursting with almost ten years’ worth of boxes and bags from her apartment in Morgantown. She’d travelled a lot for her work, going up and down the country and sometimes abroad, too, for conferences and field trips and the odd holiday. She’d always thought of her home there as a home base, if not spartan, a little sparse – but it didn’t feel that way as she and her dad scrabbled around the apartment for forgotten items and tried to squeeze one more bag into the footwell. It felt like an ordeal, an uprooting. 

She tried to tell herself she was coming home, not leaving it. New job, old haunts, a step up the career ladder and a homecoming all at once. A post at the old ranger station where she used to tag along after Mr Thacker, back in the day. She couldn’t be luckier.

It’s only five, but the day is overcast and the light is already starting to fade. It’s the tail end of a long Indian summer, late September. The days are starting to draw in. Soon, it’ll be Halloween: apple bobbing and kids fooling around in the forest. Then first frost, and Thanksgiving. The first year in she doesn’t remember how long when she won’t have to drive home through the snow… 

She squints, now, looking for her dad’s car, feeling like an elementary school kid again. Or a moody student back from college. She’s read somewhere that coming back to your childhood home makes you psychologically regress. Could that still be true when you’re in your thirties? 

No sign of his car yet. Just a forest ranger Jeep, and some guy in a sunhat getting out of the front and –

‘Duck Newton?’

Forgetting her fatigue, she hitches her backpack up on her sweaty shoulders, grabbs her suitcases and strides over as fast as she could. 

He waves. ‘Juno! Bus more or less on time for once, huh?’ 

‘What are you doing here?’ 

‘Came to pick you up.’

‘Where’s Dad?’ she asks. She’s concerned, but flustered too, expecting to slump into her parents’ car, and finding herself having to act presentable for an old acquaintance instead.

‘Aw, dang, guess you’re used to calling these things ahead, huh?’ Duck rubs the back of his neck.

‘Radio quiet zone,’ Juno says. ‘Of course. Is everything okay?’

‘Yeah, yeah, no sweat,’ Duck says. ‘Your mom and dad swung by, said something about a missed package, wanted to get to the post office before it closed.’ He leans closer, tries for conspiratorial. ‘Reckon it might be a package to do with you coming home.’

‘Ugh, he didn’t have to do that, the old softie,’ Juno groans. ‘I forgot about the dead zone.’ She pulls her phone out of her pocket and checks. No missed calls. She feels a complex swirl of emotions. Annoyance is the obvious one. It’s inconvenient, living in a place with no cell signal. But there’s an odd kind of affection too; the sense radio not working is somehow the only proper way to do things.

That’s a damned impractical way to feel, though, and she’s wondering if she did the right thing, moving back to this little town where you can’t even make a phone call. Wondering whether it’s healthy for her to move back if she’s still so stuck to the place that even the dead zone seems like a good thing…

Duck reaches out and grabs hold of one of her suitcases. He doesn’t say anything. It feels normal to turn and walk with him in silence to his car, but she puts a stop to that. It’s been twelve years; they’re not kids too used to each other to bother with nicities and too dumb to know how anyway. She’s got to make an effort. 

‘I really appreciate you turning out to get me,’ she says. 

‘Aw, it’s no trouble.’

Juno grimaces. ‘I’m sorry. I’m sure they didn’t mean to impose, but they’re stuck in the past sometimes. It’s like they still think we’re school buddies living on the same street.’

‘Well, we do still live on the same street,’ Duck says. ‘They do me a favour now and again. I really don’t mind it.’ 

‘Let me lift that into the trunk; it’s all books,’ Juno says as they reach the Jeep. 

‘Help you out,’ Duck says. He grabs one side handle, she grabs the other, and they heft the suitcase into the trunk. It is easier with two pairs of hands. Much easier when that extra pair of hands is Duck’s. He was always strong.

‘Can’t believe it’s already that time,’ Duck says, once they’ve got the second suitcase stowed. ‘Knew you were coming back, but I didn’t realise it was today already. Guess it is start of the season. It’s gonna be real good to have more hands on deck when the hunters turn out. Hop in the front; you can set your rucksack on the back seat if you want.’

‘I was gonna look you up once I’d got settled,’ Juno says. ‘Had some idea about holding a little get-together, reintroducing myself to y’all. Of course you’ve surprised me now, so you get the real me. No hiding from you, is there?’ 

Duck snorts. ‘The real you’s just fine far as I’m concerned. I’m not choosy.’ 

Juno half-laughs, but doesn’t quite know how to reply. Instead, she gazes out of the window as they follow the winding road into town. The grey drizzle of the day is clearing into a sunburst evening; a misty, delicate light finds its way through the clouds and glimmers off the slick surface of the road. The pines are still, only rustling occasionally. The car speeds by, too quick for her to focus on any detail for long, but slow enough to let her catch glimpses: a trail through the underbrush that proves the _deer crossing_ sign is accurate; plush green moss clashing with orange lichen; the blonde scarring of axes where a tree’s been cleared. Professional curiosity is stirring; she wants to clamber out of the car and scrutinise each tree, take the pulse of the forest, assess its heath, get to work. But home first. 

‘This is quite a rig you have, Duck,’ she says, looking around her at the interior of the car. 

‘Rangers’ truck. I borrowed it on account of picking you up is sort of ranger business. I usually do my commute by, uh, by skateboard. Or I just walk. Or run.’

‘Quite the walk.’ 

‘I guess. I’m used to it.’ 

‘Oh well. Hope you’re not gonna judge me for driving.’ 

‘Never. I’ll be glad of a lift once in a while from someone who’s not old enough to have birthed me.’ 

‘Hey, my parents are cool!’ Juno protests half-heartedly. She’s still looking out of the window, itching to get into the trees. After the long bus ride, and the unexpected encounter with Duck, she feels exhausted and yet wired. She’ll snap at her parents if she goes home now. 

As if reading her mind, Duck slows at the mouth of a side road, turning sharp right off the main highway and into the trees. 

‘Say, we have some time before the light fades. What do you say I show you the station, quickly? No Sat Nav out here, remember. I don’t want you to get lost tomorrow mornin’.’ 

Juno worries, momentarily, about her parents, waiting at home to welcome her. But then a shot of teenage rebellion shoots through her and she nods. ‘Sounds great, Duck. If you can spare the time.’ 

It feels weird to act so polite with him. When they were kids they never stopped trading insults, little barbs and one-upmanships that showed that they knew when and how to pull their punches. She _doesn’t_ know that anymore, she realises. Years and distance have taken their toll. But, she reassures herself, he’d come to meet her without a second thought. Surely the foundations are still there. Or at least her parents have kept up something for her to build on.

‘Nothing but Crossfit and fixing dinner for Lily,’ Duck’s saying, ‘but I wouldn’t mind an excuse to get out of the Crossfit anyway.’ For a hot second, Juno forgets that Lily is his cat and her stomach lurches oddly.

‘Hey, can you slow it up on these bends?’ she asks. ‘I’m trying to take notes on the route...’

‘Ah, sorry. We’re basically here, anyway.’ Duck tapps on the brakes and brings the Jeep to a gentle stop in front of the ranger station. He kills the engine as Juno gazes through the windshield at the old building. 

Everything is the same as she remembers it from decades earlier, down to the rusting tools out front and the chipped paint of the porch. Perhaps it’s all a few shades duller from years of summer sunshine and winter cold, a few steps closer to being pulled back into the forest, but that’s all.

She’s been here enough times as a kid: to have coffee with Ranger Dannon or Duck, usually, on visits home from university; occasionally in her high school days, passing through with Thacker on KepEx business; once or twice to parlay with the rangers after being caught in some minor infringement and hauled in by her ear to give her a scare. 

And now she’ll be heading the place up.

Memories bubble up and burst into words. ‘It’s funny how it’s all the same.’ She steps out of the truck and shuts the door. ‘Every last bit. Even the boot-scraper out front.’ She nudges it with her toe. ‘Swear that’s been here for donkey’s years.’ 

‘See, everything’s comin’ back to you now.’ Duck shoots her a grin. ‘Apart from the road here, apparently.’ 

She makes a face. ‘Sorry if I don’t want to get lost in the woods on my first day.’ 

Duck chuckles and pulls out a big carabiner of keys, finding the right one easily. Muscle memory. He opens the thick cage door – for bears and kids – and then the screen one – for mosquitoes – and steps into the main room, placing his hat on the row of hooks. It’s dimly lit, and as he moves into shadow, she notices the electric blue tinge at the roots of his hair. Huh. That’s still a thing. 

‘Station’s empty. Ranger Dannon must be out patrollin’.’ 

Juno must have let the relief show on her face, because he laughs. 

‘Just as well. If he was here, I betcha right now, he’d be saying, ‘Well, look what the cat dragged in’.’ 

‘And then he’d spend ten minutes mansplaining leaf mold to me...’ Juno tails off as she steps into the room. God. It even _smells_ the same. She pauses for a moment, just looking around, drinking it in as the nostalgia lodges itself somewhere between her heart and her throat. 

The ranger station is one of those places where the outside seems to be visibly trying to creep back in. The un-dressed wooden beams are covered in little spiders’ webs, and look like they might be hiding the spiders too. Fragments of leaf and pine needle have blown across the floor. The documents and log-book spread out across the desk are faded with sunshine. Even the telephone and the fridge humming in the corner look somehow organic; old, dumped things that nature has started to take back. There’s a second door leading out to the back of the building, and big windows letting in the light.

‘I love it,’ Juno says, dropping her rucksack into one of the swivel chairs behind the desk.

‘Homey, ain’t it?’ Duck says. From the way he moves through the space, she doesn’t think he’s being sarcastic. ‘The trees are real nice if you go sit out on the front porch. I’ll get us some soda. Not that there’s normally any snacks in this fridge, mind. I got something in on account of it’s your first day tomorrow.’

So maybe he hadn’t forgotten she was arriving today after all. Funny. She’d been so worried about him and her being able to get along the same as they did before, and now it seems like he and the station and the whole forest are just waiting to reabsorb her again. It feels good, but it also feels like waking up from a nap at her high-school desk to find her adult life has just been a dream.

She plants her feet, shakes the thought off. The place might be the same, but she’s all trained up now. Forest ranger.

She strolls out onto the porch on Duck’s advice. Inside and outside are so blended together that she can easily follow his words from where she’s standing. After a moment he follows her out, holding two cans of RC Cola.

‘That’s real hospitable of you,’ she says, taking one and cracking it open. Straight from the can, no glass, just like in the old days. She can feel her voice settling back into its old Appalachian accent to match his.

‘Well, not every day an old bird comes home to roost,’ Duck says.

‘Hey!’ Juno bumps him in the shoulder with her open can.

‘Ugh!’ Duck grimaces as he realises what he’s said. ‘Aww, c’mon, you know I didn’t mean that! Gross!’

‘I could have you up in front of HR for that,’ Juno smirks.

‘You could. Human resources.’ Duck’s expression turns thoughtful. ‘Damn, we got old, huh? Real jobs, chain of command?’

‘This stuff tastes terrible to me now,’ Juno agrees. She holds her can up to the light and squints at it suspiciously. ‘How did we used to drink it all day every day?’

‘Beats me.’ Duck takes a pull from his can so long it makes her wince. He’s never flinched from anything painful, after all.

‘Remember,’ Duck says. He swallows, mouth probably glued shut from all that sugar, and tries again. ‘Remember how we used to get hyped up on this stuff and tear around the woods, in and out of the station and all over?’

‘I remember you tripping and cracking your head right here on these steps,’ Juno says. ‘Thought you were gonna die for sure.’

‘Oh, I will die here for sure; s’just a question of when,’ Duck says.

‘Probably fighting a bear,’ Juno says. ‘Man, we must’ve annoyed the heck outta the rangers when we were kids. And they couldn’t say anything, cos they need kids using the trails to prove they deserve their funding. We still get any kids around here?’

‘Oh, plenty, far more than you’d like. Don’t worry about that. Thank God for the quiet zone.’

‘Thank God. Say, how _did_ you survive that crack on the steps?’

Duck grimaces again around his cola can. ‘Man,’ he says, swallowing, ‘are you still on that? I don’t know; I got a thick skull, alright?’

‘You should donate your body to medical research after you die.’

‘Already on the donor list. Anything the bears don’t eat, they can have. These organs are _pristine_.’

‘Liar. I know how much dope you used to smoke.’

‘No more’n you. Alright, since we’re asking awkward questions, how are _you_ all alright after all the drugs you used to mix?’

‘Easy.’ Juno flips her hair. ‘I used to pray to Mother Earth when I was in the depths of trance, and she’d always heal me.’

‘You’re full of – ’ Duck stumbles a little, perhaps remembering HR. ‘Cuh-rrrr _ap_.’

‘Worked, didn’t it?’ Juno retorts. ‘Did you know that trance states were part of the religious practises of the majority of premodern societies? A friend of mine at university was doing her PhD on it. Apparently we’re all spiritually impoverished because we’ve criminalised hallucinogenics and pathologised altered states of consciousness.’

‘For real?’ Duck asks. ‘Well, I’m sure it’s all true, but if there’s one thing I learned at school it’s that I hate hallucinogenics. I want to chill out and that’s that on that.’

‘Fair enough,’ Juno says. ‘I had some real bad trips.’ She stares out through the trees for a few moments, watching the green sunlight shift through the leaves.

‘You know the crazy thing, though?’ she resumes.

‘Mm-hmm?’ Duck asks.

‘I was honestly getting pretty psychedelic in high school. Then I moved away, got a job, did some studies, got my head on straight, started to see things the way they really are, got a lot happier. A lot clearer. And now that I’m back here, the _moment_ I’m back here, it all starts to seem that way again. Mother Earth, trance states. Like there might be something else behind the stuff I can see. Why’s that?’

‘Forest plays tricks on you,’ Duck says. ‘It spooks most people. Your monkey brain thinks there could be a big cat behind every tree, so it finds ways to cope.’

‘It certainly does,’ Juno agrees.

‘Me though, I’m the opposite,’ Duck says. ‘Feels like out here in the Monongahela forest is the only place I’ve got my feet on the ground. ’s the only place I never feel spooked. Every weird thing out there, and believe me there’s plenty of weirdness, we’ve either got a scientific explanation for or we will have.’

‘Don’t you find that restrictive?’ Juno asks.

‘Restrictive?’ Duck echoes. ‘Are you kidding me? Anything I find out there, anything at all…well, in town there’s rules, and some of the rules have a rhyme and a reason, but some of them are just because. You gotta do this, because I tell you. You gotta be something, because I’ve decided it’s what’s best for you. Out here, there’s not a single thing I can’t find the reason for if I don’t study long enough. Three hundred and sixty five species of moss on those trees, and we can trace how each one of them came to be. No rational explanation – “a Wizard did it” – now that’d be restrictive.’

‘No imagination, that’s you,’ Juno says. ‘Thank God I had you for a ball and chain in high school, or I mighta wandered into the woods and never come – ’

A loud _clang_ from the other side of the building cuts her off. 

For a moment she and Duck are both quiet. Then Juno speaks again. 

‘See, for a second there I was _positive_ that was the Sasquatch. Forest plays tricks on you.’ 

‘Stop messing,’ Duck grouses. 

‘I’m not messing. My brain’s messing with _me_! I heard that clang, I’m a grown lady, but the second I heard that clang I thought to myself, definitely the Sasquatch. Or, y’know, _something_.’ Juno leans forward to glance around the side of the building, but whatever’s making noise must be right round the back. All she can see from her angle is pine trees. ‘Ugh, my neck’s prickling.’

‘If it’s excitement you want, it’s more likely than you think,’ Duck says darkly. ‘I don’t know about any Sasquatch, but could well be a bear. Come on, let’s get inside, we can look through the windows and see what gives...’

‘Alright, let’s not get carried away,’ Juno says as she scrambles to her feet and follows him in. She’s trying to get a hold of herself. ‘I know you get tourists up here by promising them bears the moment they step foot on the trail, but as I recall they’re quite shy animals. Besides, didn’t sound big enough. Rat?’

‘City slicker,’ Duck says. ‘Nah, I reckon it’s something bigger’n a rat.’

‘Soooo, what’s bigger than a rat but smaller than a bear?’ Juno asks, too casually. She knows that only idiots get themselves hurt by bears, but surely it’s only human to be a little nervous at the prospect of meeting one. ‘And what would bring a bear down here anyway, given that their typical behaviour, just described by me, of sticking to the deeper forest?

‘That’s an excellent question,’ Duck says. ‘We usually try to keep things squeaky clean so they’ve got no call to come around here…’ He trails off, then suddenly smacks his forehead.

‘I’m a son of a bitch!’

‘I ain’t arguing, but why?’

‘Dumpster! I forgot to padlock the dumpster down before I left. It’s meant to be my job.’

‘Oh man. And something got into it? I guess we’ve got to go in and shoo them out or they could get all kinds of hurt. I suppose you’ve got plastic in there?’

‘Plastic, glass, the works. You know what, I’m pinning this one on you.’

‘How so?’ 

‘Managed to get myself in a flap rushin’ off to pick you up.’ 

‘Hey, that was your idea! I didn’t ask to slug a lift!’ She feels guilty all the same, and changes the subject. ‘Look, we can’t stay here as maybe-bear hostages all night. Mum and Dad will be wondering where I am.’

‘I know, I know,’ Duck says. ‘Let’s go on a bear hunt.’ 

They move through the station and step out of the back door. The wooden steps are littered with pine needles. Juno notes absently: those’ll need sweeping if they’re not going to turn to humus and start the steps rotting. There’s a bit of clearing behind the station, the ground all dusted with needles, the loveliest shade of brown in the world. Behind them the forest gets dark fast. 

There are a series of heavy dumpsters pushed up against the back wall of the station. There’s no bear in sight. 

‘What’ve you got your torch out for?’ Juno asks Duck, who’s moving forward warily. ‘It’s still light.’ 

‘Well, s’nice’n sturdy, you know,’ he mutters. 

‘Duck Newton, you would never bludgeon a wild animal, would you?’ Juno exclaims in fake shock. Well, actually it’s a little bit of real shock. How many times has she had it drilled into her that you never risk harm to an animal, unless there’s a member of the public at immediate risk or you’re culling in hunting season? She guesses out here they’re more used to animals being a nuisance and less used to the idea that, nation-wide, they’re more and more of a rarity. But she hadn’t expected it from Duck. 

‘Naw, never,’ he says. ‘Except in the _extremely_ unlikely event that it’s me or it.’

He stalks up to the first dumpster. A rattling comes from inside.

‘Okay, Juno,’ he says. ‘If you could just pull the lid back on my count, I’ll see what kind of critter we’re dealing with. 

_Thunk thunk thunk_. He raises the torch. 

‘Rabies?’ Juno asks. 

‘Could be. Or some of the rats get real big. Just...just some real weird animals round here. _You_ know.’ 

And Juno _does_ know. She can’t imagine, she can’t recall, she can’t put it in words, but she does know. 

It’s the closest they’ve come in a long time to saying anything about it.

It seems to be getting darker by the second.

She swallows and realises that her mouth has gone dry. When Duck starts his countdown, his voice is artificially quiet and calm. 

‘Alright, on three… One, two, three!’

He flips his torch on as she lunges forward and slams the lid open – 

To see three pairs of eyes reflected in the gloom within. 

‘ _Holy fuck_!’ Juno screams, dropping the lid. And then her eyes make sense of what she’s seeing and she realises that there are three racoons, two adult and one juvenile, staring up at her from the bottom of the trash can. 

The lid comes back down with a thud, but not before she hears a confused chittering from within. 

Duck gives a yelp of laughter. ‘Watch your profanity! It’s just a coupla ‘coons!’ But there’s relief in his voice, and she can’t help reading something into that. 

‘Sorry, sorry!’ she says, lifting the lid again. ‘Don’t know what I was expecting.’ 

At first glance, the raccoons look pretty happily ensconced in the pile of trash, although they glare up and chuck in warning as Duck and Juno drew closer. Then Juno notices that the juvenile’s pawing at the ruff around its neck. She looks more carefully: the sturdy polymer-fabric strap of a ripped tarp has tangled around its neck. 

She points it out to Duck. ‘Juvenile’s managed to get itself tangled up.’ One of the parents hisses at the sudden movement, rearing up and placing its stubby, hand-like paws on the side of the can.

‘That explains the aggression…’ Duck leans perilously over the side of the dumpster. ‘Alright, lil buddy, let’s see what we can do for you.’ 

‘Careful there, slick, you’re gonna end up nose-first in the trash,’ Juno says. 

‘Naw,’ Duck says. He leans until most of his weight is balanced on his belly across the rim of the dumpster. ‘C’m’ere, you – ’

The biggest racoon hisses and darts for Duck’s hand. Duck jerks back with a yelp, his boots leave the floor and he loses his balance. Juno grabs him by the belt.

‘Ack!’ Duck yelps. ‘Thanks!’ 

‘Damn, remember when we were nine years old and you used to crawl into every place there might be an animal?’ Juno scolds. 

‘Like it was yesterday.’

‘Seems like it’s today as well. What if that thing’s rabid?’

‘It ain’t. But you’re right though; health and safety. I oughta follow the protocols. Hang on…’ Duck darts back into the station and returns with a heavy pair of leather gloves. ‘I know you think I’m being sentimental,’ he calls, ‘but we really do gotta get those critters out the trash.’ 

‘I know.’ Juno tugs the gloves out of his hands. ‘Well, I think the only method is to accept that I’m going to end up inside the dumpster. That way I can avoid going head-first.’

She vaults over the side of the skip and lands with a _crunch_. It’s mostly plastic and cans; nothing too gross. 

‘Hoick the adults out first,’ Duck calls. 

‘You got it,’ Juno agrees, and reaches gingerly for the largest racoon with her gloved hands. It makes a growling noise, oddly intimidating for something so tiny. 

She grabs. It shoots between her legs. Juno hops awkwardly to try and keep her ankles away from it. She’s wearing heavy denim jeans and proper boots, but she still doesn’t want to get bit. 

The thing’s nimble. It leads her a merry chase around the bottom of the dumpster, until Duck gets over the suspense and lounges over the side to watch the show, but in the end there isn’t much place for it to go and she snatches it up. It’s surprisingly heavy. 

‘Damn, how did you even climb up the side to get yourself stuck _in_ here?’ Juno asks it. 

‘Surprising, some of what these things can do,’ Duck says. ‘Toss him over the side; let him find his feet.’ 

Juno complies. The second the racoon hits the ground, it whirls back round, making an anxious whine. 

‘Uh, think that might be a she,’ Juno says. 

‘Reckon you could be right,’ Duck says. ‘Looking for your baby, sweetheart?’

‘Oh lord, spare me,’ Juno scoffs with more derision than she feels. She makes a quick grab for the second racoon and dumps it ceremoniously to the ground. It hisses and paws at her as she puts it down. 

‘Duck, be a dear and run fetch me some wire cutters, will ya?’ The words slip out without her realising. Duck gives a startled laugh but doesn’t question it. 

‘Sure. Gimme two secs.’ 

The little raccoon is fat and healthy-looking, but its hair is standing on end and its beady eyes look terrified. ‘Come on, kiddo,’ she says, ‘cute li’l trash panda…’ 

‘Another girl, looks like,’ Duck observes, leaning into the dumpster to pass her the wire cutters. ‘Sometimes the females’ll stick together in groups, you know… Wonder which one’s the momma?’ 

Juno doesn’t respond. She’s carefully getting the cutters in position to snip cleanly through the tarp handle tangled around the juvenile’s neck. It’s managed to get it caught under its armpit, somehow. ‘Hold still for two seconds, now…’ 

With both the adults gone, the juvenile goes still and quiet, the quick movement of its flanks the only indication of its fear. For a moment, Juno’s heart twists like a child’s, scared of hurting it. It’s definitely twilight, now: she’s having to concentrate to see what she’s doing. But this ain’t her first rodeo. She’s got steady hands. It’ll be fine. She crouches and sets the racoon down in the trash, so that she can hold the tarp with one hand and cut with the other. It makes quite a good leash, and the racoon holds still. With a couple of deft movements, Juno manages to hack through the strap and pull the tarp away. As she does so, Duck lowers a branch into the dumpster, propping it up against the side. The raccoon blinks a few times and then scurries up deftly, pausing at the top and deliberating for a second, gauging the height before making the perilous jump down. One of the adults gives a chitter. 

‘I was looking forward to holdin’ the baby,’ Juno jokes, turning to face Duck. 

‘Just wanted to feel useful,’ he smiles. ‘You did all the dirty work.’ 

‘You know, just mucking in. Don’t want anyone t’think that I’m above rescuing racoons now I’m a middle manager or whatever...’

‘Are you kidding? That’s one of the perks,’ Duck laughs. The juvenile hisses in alarm and scurryies towards the adults. 

Duck pulls the branch back out of the dumpster and then holds out his hands to her. ‘Need a hand outta there?’ 

Juno’s about to shake her head, about to say, _naw, I’m fine,_ about to scramble out of the dumpster on her own and dust herself off and go back inside. And then something stops the words in her throat, and she doesn’t even argue. 

Later, she goes back over it in her mind. Maybe it was that she didn’t want to turn up at her parents’ house, where they’re letting her crash – ‘just until she finds her own place’, but even that feels too long when you’re thirty – smelling any more like a dumpster than she already did. Maybe it was because she doesn’t feel like she needs to prove anything to Duck, not right now, not really. And maybe, also, because this had been _fun,_ for no good reason at all. It felt like a high school afternoon, heady and strange and a little bit magic. And all they did was rescue some goddamn racoons. Was that pathetic? How suddenly, simply _happy_ she felt? 

Regardless, in that moment, she holds her hands out to him without a second thought.

He grips her by her elbows and says, suddenly a bit gruff, ‘Ok, step up on three! One, two –’ 

And then just lifts her up bodily like she weighs _nothing,_ and _fuck,_ she’d forgotten how strong he is. She feels herself give a little gasp, just because it’s so goddamned unexpected. And when he places her back down on the ground, she stumbles a little, and he puts a hand on her waist to steady her, and she lets him. 

‘Woah,’ she says, and her voice is higher than normal. Fuck. ‘Thanks.’ _Fuck._

‘Don’t mention it,’ Duck says, but he doesn’t let go of her waist for a long moment. 

Light’s definitely fading, now. Her parents will definitely be wondering where she is. Where both of them are.

Late sunshine. Burnished golden orange, spilling over them both. Still enough light that she can see her own reflection in his eyes. That she can pick out the freckles on his face, the flecks of deeper colour over his tan. Or maybe that’s just because they’re close -- closer than they have been in a while? 

In a long time. 

There’s a creak behind them, and Juno jumps. ‘What was – ?’

Two of the ‘coons are slinking into the woods, the mother and the juvenile, but the third is nowhere to be seen. At least, not until Juno spots a ringed tail disappearing behind the screen door of the ranger station. 

‘Son of a _bitch!’_ Duck exclaims, sounding so genuinely betrayed that Juno can’t help but find it funny. 

She makes a noise that’s caught between a sigh, a laugh, and a howl of despair, then lurches forward towards the station. ‘Duck, lock that dumpster, and then, for the love of god, get in here. We need to corral this fucker.’ 

The two of them slip up the steps and back into the station, trying to move quietly. 

‘Alright, girl, where you at?’ Duck mutters. 

‘How’s it hidden itself so fast?’ Juno complains. 

‘Sneaky fucker. What’s it want to run _towards_ the human smell for, anyway? Woods are right there!’

‘Smelt the snacks, probably.’

‘Most likely. Hey, ’coon!’ Duck raises his voice. ‘I bought those snacks for Ranger Divine! Not for you!’

There’s a scuffling from the corner to the right of the rangers’ desk. 

‘Ah no, it’s in the junk corner!’ Duck groans. ‘Take us ages to dig her out of there.’ 

‘Serves you right for having a junk corner,’ Juno says. She marches over to the corner and pulls out an odd rubber boot, a pair of those hiking sticks held together with elastic, a strip of green tarpaulin...the tarpaulin’s heavier than it should be. She heaves. The tarpaulin pulls slowly free of the mess, and the racoon comes with it, clinging on with all four sets of claws. 

‘Why y’all so obsessed with tarps?’ Juno asks. 

The raccoon runs. 

Juno makes a grab. She misses the body but gets a hold on the stripy tail. She then immediately lets go, because manhandling any animal by the tail is unsafe and cruel. The racoon streaks across the floor. Duck lunges, catches his feet on the hiking sticks and goes down hard. Juno gives a cry of concern, but Duck bounces back to his feet like he’s hardly felt it. He’s just a moment too late to catch the racoon as it leaps up one of the pillars that support the ceiling. 

‘If that thing pisses in here,’ Duck says, ‘I’m gonna lose it.’ 

‘Here.’ Juno’s spotted a long-handled broom in the corner. ‘You’ll have to sweep it off the ceiling; it’s what Dad always did.’ 

‘Alright.’ Duck takes the broom, frowning in concentration as he points it up at the ceiling. He prods at the racoon, trying to encourage it back down the pillar. It makes a scramble onto one of the wooden ceiling beams instead. ‘Son of a – ’

‘Likes it better in here, doesn’t she?’ Juno says. ‘Come on, if you don’t like him poking you with a broom there’s an easy solution. Get out!’

‘This how you spend your evenings, huh?’ Duck asks the racoon as he prods with the broom. ‘You bust in on two people just trying to spend some time together? You find people on dates and stick your nose in all, “mind if I join?” Fuckin weirdo.’ 

The racoon gives one of those cartoonishly exaggerated hisses and fluffs up its fur. Juno gives a sudden snort of laughter. 

‘Why you so obsessed with us, huh?’ Duck goes on. He makes a sweeping motion. The racoon darts to left and right as it tries to avoid him. ‘Why you so obsessed with human places? What’d you all think if I came busting into your racoon den, huh?’

Keeping the raccoon in her line of sight, Juno moves over to the tall store cupboard and yanks it open. As she’d hoped, there’s a raccoon snare right there. 

‘Duck, if you’re done cussing her out, can you herd her down? I’ll snare her.’ 

Duck sighs. ‘Alright.’ He prods at the raccoon half-heartedly. ‘C’mon, you creep, Juno’s parents’ll flip if she don’t turn up soon. And then d’you think they’ll let me stay for tacos? No way.’ 

Juno perked up at that. ‘We’re having tacos?’ 

‘Ah, damn, that was meant to be a surprise.’ He gives one more sweep and the raccoon, which had been moving at the pace of a reluctant toddler, suddenly puts on a turn of speed and scuttles back down onto the floor. Juno dives forward with a battle cry and corrals it against the pillar, slipping the snare deftly over its forepaws. The raccoon promptly starts screaming, but in a way that suggests pure outrage rather than pain. 

‘They’re weirdly human little gits, aren’t they?’ Juno grunts, lifting the raccoon up bodily and hefting it towards the door. 

‘More like demons,’ Duck says darkly. ‘I’m gonna clean up this mess. Looks like a tornado came through here…’ 

Juno kicks the door open and then shuts it firmly behind her – she’s taking no chances this time. She hefts the squealing ‘coon to the edge of the clearing, and then several strides into the trees, before she lets the snare loose. The raccoon extricates itself immediately. It pauses for a moment, puffing its fur out and then shaking it all down again, looking for all the world like a self-important city type brushing imaginary dirt off their suit after getting knocked around on public transport. Then it chitters one last time and scampers off through the trees. 

‘Thank fuck that’s over,’ Juno mutters, twirling the snare in her hand and leaning on it for a second. She gazes off into the trees. Dust motes and tiny insects dance through the air, illuminated by the setting sun. An occasional snatch of birdsong floats out from the trees, along with the low buzz of the last of the summer insects. 

God, though, she’d been spooked by those three pairs of eyes, staring out of the dumpster at her. It brought back all the little incidents from her childhood here, and then her teenage years, that she tried her best to gloss over, ignore and forget. 

Back in their last few years of high school: Duck’s animated conversations with nobody, and, even when he didn’t say a word, the way his eyes would focus on things that nobody else could see, or he’d shrug his shoulders, twitch his head as if batting away something more solid than just a thought. 

Memories from her summers spent working in the woods with KepEx: Thacker’s strange, encrypted notes, and the way he was always hyper-aware out in the forest. Sometimes he’d shut down all tours for no apparent reason, and head off into the forest alone. He never even tried to offer an explanation, and she never asked, afraid of prying, but also of what he would say. And where was Thacker, now? Nobody seemed to know where he’d gone, or at least, nobody who was willing to share. He’d always been a bit of a loner, sure, but the idea that someone could just leave Kepler without a word of goodbye to anyone made Juno sad and uneasy. 

And further back, still. That day down by the creek, when she’d let herself fall behind the rest of her eighth grade class, and she’d talked with Arlo Thacker before wandering slowly, reluctantly, back along the forest path. Before she’d reached the coaches, there had been a great crashing behind her, and she’d turned, heart in mouth, only to see that Thacker had raced to catch up with her, his bushwhacker drawn like a weapon, looking more panicked than any adult she’d ever seen.

When he caught sight of her, he’d looked shaken and relieved beyond measure, and walked with her all the rest of the way to the bus. It was only then that she remembered the strange tracks in the wet ground next to the creek, and realised that they hadn’t matched any animal that she’d seen or read about in her books. The hairs on the back of her neck had risen, and she hardly heard her teacher’s reprimands or the other kids’ muttering. That night, she’d dreamt about something behind her on the path, running getting closer, before waking with a start and a scream still burning in her throat, too afraid to even call for her mom. 

A bird screeches, somewhere close by, and Juno jumps. It’s really getting into evening, now: the shadows of the trees stretching towards her like spilled ink. She wants to turn back, find Duck, go home. But suddenly she’s scared to turn her back on the forest. Or maybe, she doesn’t want to leave. She’s not sure. 

Placing a steadying hand on the rough bark of a pine, she takes a deep breath and forces herself to turn around. 

Duck’s leaning in the doorway of the ranger station, shielding his eyes and looking out into the forest too. He’s perfectly still, gazing into the setting sun as it filters through the trees. His expression is hard to read from this distance, but he seems to be deep in thought. The light that falls on him is bright and golden, illuminating him, chiaroscuro. (A word she learnt at college, it bubbles up into her mind and makes her think of heroes and biblical figures in history paintings.) She looks down at her own hair and sees it illuminated, too, red-gold in this light, individual strands picked out like bright threads. As she looks at Duck, he straightens up and waves, looking a little sheepish. 

She waves back, her fear dissolving, and strides back over the grass towards him. He meets her half-way. 

‘She ran off right away,’ she says. ‘Hopefully we’ve taught her a lesson.’ 

‘Hmm?’ 

‘The ‘coon.’ 

‘Oh yeah.’ Duck smiles. ‘Gimme that snare and I’ll lock up.’ 

‘Mind you do it right this time.’ 

‘Sure, sure. You can check everything too.’ 

‘Aw, no, I don’t start gettin’ paid for this until tomorrow…’ 

They’re back to their old ways, molasses-slow pauses and light, simple words, conversations easy as an idle summer game of catch. For a moment, a flame of frustration burns up in Juno’s throat and she just wants to grab Duck by the shoulders and ask him all the questions that she’s been burning to ask for years, decades even. How much does he know? How much would he tell her? 

But she tamps it down, like she always does, and they check the closet, the windows, the doors, the trash can one more time. Duck tosses her a chocolate bar from the fridge and she grabs it out of the air easily. Then she get back in the car. 

‘Damn, it’s been an hour,’ Duck says in consternation. ‘Sorry, Juno.’ 

‘My mom’s gonna have a cow.’ 

‘Juno Divine, missing curfew? I guess some things never change.’ 

‘We’ll tell her about the raccoon and she’ll calm down.’ 

‘An epic battle.’ 

‘Bards will sing about our heroism for years to come.’

Duck grimaces and starts backing the truck out of the driveway. ‘Now you’re sounding like Deputy Dewey. You know, freshman when we were seniors, Sarah’s cousin. He’s all into bards and rogues and shit…’ 

‘Amazing,’ Juno laughs. ‘Maybe we should go along ‘n’ show ‘em how it’s done…’ 

‘Nah. Juno, we’re _living_ it. Out in the beauty of nature. We don’t need none of that make-believe.’ 

He glances at her when he says that. 

‘Eyes on the road, Newton.’ 

‘Absolutely, Ranger Divine.’ 

* * *

After Juno disappears into her house, Duck sits in the car for a few moments, parked at the curb. He wonders if he’s being rude, if the Divines were expecting him to come in. He wouldn't mind a few tacos after that chase. But he sees them every couple of days; it’s not like that’s some special occasion. And he and Juno have always preferred plants to people. They’re back to normal. 

‘Duck Newton!’

Well. Maybe that isn’t always a good thing. 

‘I see that your former companion has returned, Duck Newton!’ 

There’s a figure in the passenger seat. Not a million miles off Juno in build, but it’s glowing. 

‘Why did you make no mention of your friend’s imminent arrival, Duck Newton?’

‘You been spying on me?’ Duck asks, tapping the wheel. He likes to sit alone in cars and think. He doesn’t like to sit alone in cars and hallucinate. He’d kind of hoped that kicking the pot would put paid to that. 

‘I maintain a constant watch on you, Duck Newton!’ Minerva declares. ‘I have been charged with ensuring your wellbeing and overseeing your training.’ 

‘Well, at least you’re upfront about it,’ Duck sighs. ‘Yeah, she’s back. Hardly front-page news.’

‘Are you not overjoyed to take up arms with your compatriot once more?’ 

‘I mean, it’s hardly _arms_ , Minerva, y’know, I guess when there’s a deer cull on...I always, y’know, try to dodge that though...fishing hooks, I guess…’

A few moments of silence. The cicadas are loud in the forest. He’d better get moving before Juno looks out of her window and sees him lurking on the curb like a weirdo. 

‘I am glad she’s back, ’course I am,’ Duck says. ‘She’s a great ranger. Good buddy. Great grasp of ecology.’ 

‘I remember her many excellent attributes, Duck Newton,’ Minerva says. ‘A word to the wise. If you and this woman who is named for the gods are to work together once more, you must have a care for _how_ you do so. It must not be as it was before.’ 

‘Alright.’ Suddenly Duck’s had enough of this conversation. He turns the key and the engine roars. He flicks on the lights. Sitting in the spooky dark, it’s too easy to imagine all kinds of things. In the bright headlamps, Minerva is much harder to see, but she’s still there. 

‘Of course it’s gonna be like it was before,’ Duck says as he pulls out of the drive. ‘Slipped straight back into the rhythm. Of course, things’re a little awkward. We’re grown-ups now, colleagues, we gotta be a bit more sensible. But nothing’s gonna be _different_.’

‘Juno Divine has a mighty spirit, but she, like you, is one who denies her destiny. And as long as she continues to do so, she would have you deny yours as well. To see you go on without her would be intolerable to her. Either you must rise together, or neither of you will.’ 

‘Okay, this is just...you know what, Minerva, I don’t often say this, because I get that mostly you’re just a very strange lady, and also probably just inside my head, or maybe computers, but you’re being kind of mean. You know what, actually real mean? Are you saying Juno’s not a good friend to me? That I’m not a good friend to her?’ 

‘Neither of you are half of what you could be, to yourselves or to this world, Duck Newton,’ Minerva says. Her voice is a little quieter than usual. ‘Ponder my words. I have confidence that eventually you will understand me. It is your destiny.’

She starts to get larger and larger, but she’s also getting fainter, as if the light she’s made of is diffusing slowly. Gradually she gets too spread out to see. The last wisps of her fade away like smoke. 

‘Holy shit!’ Duck exclaims. He was so transfixed by the light in the cabin that he’s hardly noticed the onrushing bend in the road. He skids a little as he rounds the corner. 

‘Right,’ he says out loud. ‘So, that was my unconscious mind eating me about Juno, clearly. Ain’t heard that little voice since high school. Guess it makes sense that the old memories are around when she’s around.’ He slows way down to a speed where it’s safe to think. Shadowy trunks of pine trees slide past the car, row on row, dangerously hypnotic. 

‘Guess I didn’t make that big a deal out of seeing her,’ he says to himself. ‘Sure, she never liked to make a big deal out of anything, but back in town after all this time? She’s gotta feel some type of way. Shoulda told her I was glad she was back.’ 

He and Juno had never been much for saying when they were glad to have each other around. Normal for kids to fake not caring, but they’re adults now. He can make his old friend feel welcome in town. Let her know the whole forestry appreciates her coming on board. Hopefully that’s what his loud, glowing, female-voiced imagination was trying to tell him. 

He pulls into the ranger station. It’s fully dark now. He parks up and kills the engine. Car’ll be in place for whoever needs it the morning after. Then he walks into the station and picks up the phone. 

‘Hey, Mrs Divine,’ he says. ‘Juno still up?’ 

‘Night owl,’ Juno’s mother confirms. ‘She didn’t go leave a suitcase in your trunk or something, did she?’

‘Naw, she didn’t. It was me forgot to tell her something.’ 

‘Well, alright, Duck. Here she is.’ 

‘Hey, ya dingus.’ Juno’s familiar voice comes down the line, ever so slightly faded. ‘What’s up?’ 

She’s talking to him just like not one day has passed since high school. Maybe he’s the one being an idiot here. But Duck ploughs on. 

‘Hey, doof,’ he replies. ‘Your parents get that package before closing time?’

‘Yeah,’ Juno says. ‘Brand new hiking boots. Gonna be real useful once I break ’em in.’ A pause. ‘Please tell me that’s not all you called about.’

‘Naw.’ Duck takes a breath. ‘Just wanted to let you know how glad I am you decided to move back.’ 

‘For real?’ The line must be clearing up, because Juno’s voice sounds sharper. ‘Come on, we were just together.’ 

‘I know,’ Duck says. ‘Couldn’t recall if I’d said it.’ 

‘Oh, well,’ Juno mumbles. 

‘It’s nice, having an old friend around. I mean, I know most folks around here, but you’re a good friend. Gonna be just like old times, tearing around the forest with you. And hey, y’know the whole team’s excited to have you on board. You’re a damned fine forester.’ 

‘Aww, Duck! You’re a damned fine forester yourself. And you know we couldn’t have a finer forest to work in. I’m looking forward to it. Really I am.’ 

‘Yeah me too,’ Duck says. ‘Maybe we can be a bit more sensible about it this time. Get our highs the natural way, make ourselves useful, do some good in the world.’ 

‘Alright, you’re the responsible one now, I get it,’ Juno laughs. ‘Set me an example. Hey, thanks for calling. Really. Means a lot.’ 

‘Yeah?’ Duck can hear the warmth in his own voice. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow. Catch some rest, sleep well.’ 

‘You too, buddy. Night.’ 

‘G’night.’ The phone clicks. Duck listens to the silence for a moment, then returns the phone to its cradle and gets up to stretch. 

They’re not teenagers any more. He can say he’s glad to have her in town. It’s true, and she appreciated it. 

He steps out into the night. People complain that the trail under the pines is black and pitch, but Duck reckons they’re just too used to streetlamps. He can always find his way if there’s a little starlight. He leaves the station car behind him and starts the walk back towards his apartment. 

The woods are alive with noises. The rustle of pines, the odd twig, the last few cicadas packing up. Little animals and big ones. They don’t bother Duck. He likes to hear the whole world going about its business, not minding him and him not minding them. There’s nothing in this forest that he doesn’t know how to deal with them. He strides out confidently over the root-gnarled forest floor, branches brushing his elbows like friendly hands as he goes. 

Above his head, above the trees, the bright moon is a few days from full. 


End file.
